The Sound of Ice

5

Okay, I know Matthew and I had our little chat yesterday. But that's not really on my mind as he grabs the back of my jersey and I swing at him.

"Hey! Hey! Break it up!" The ref is tweeting his whistle like crazy and trying to squirm in between us, and our teammates are surrounding us, pulling us apart. Everything is jerseys and flesh and sweat.

Matthew swings at my helmet, but before I can hit back, someone grabs my arm. Another player pulls Matthew away. 

"Dude, stop," says the person at my side, shouting over the noise. It's Ethan. I chew on my mouthguard and shake his tight grip off of me, the ref's whistle still ringing in my ear.

The Knights fans in the stands look pissed, or confused. I guess they're not used to seeing players on the same team fighting. 

It's the end of the second period, and we're tied. Coach benches both of us for the rest of the game. We lose.

~

"Can somebody tell me what the hell happened out there?" Coach is screaming, spit flying out of his mouth, and Matthew and I are sitting on the bench in front of him like four year olds. The rest of the locker room is cleared out, everyone waiting for us on the bus.

I look at my hands, and Matthew sniffs beside me.

"Somebody better tell me right now." Oh no. His voice is turned dangerously quiet. 

"We just got in a disagreement, Coach," says Matthew, a half-mumble. 

Coach scoffs. "About what?"

Neither of us say anything. 

"I swear to god -"

"Beckett wasn't passing to me all game," says Matthew.

I want to roll my eyes. "Coach, you know that's not true! I was passing -"

"We lost multiple opportunities to score -"

"You having the puck does not equal scoring -"

"You knew I was open and you didn't pass it to me because you -"

"I know how to play hockey, I pass the puck when -"

"Enough!" Coach holds up a hand and we fall silent, our voices echoing off the lockers. "That's enough. You're acting like children when you're the captains of this team. I'm disappointed in you both."

I crack my knuckles and keep my eyes on my sneakers. Coach takes a deep breath through his nose. 

"I don't tolerate this," Coach says slowly. "You two cost us this win tonight. You fight like that against each other, you get benched. No excuses. No exceptions. We needed this win, and if you two worked together, we would have gotten it."

Matthew rubs his ear. "I know."

"Me too," I say.

Coach opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he closes it. "I don't even know what to say," he says. "I'm extremely disappointed. Gonzalez, get out. Beckett, stay."

I can't tell if this is good or bad. I think bad. Okay, this is really bad. Gonzalez leaves the locker room and I'm left alone with Coach. The silence hurts my ears. 

"You think the NHL is a joke?" His voice is even quieter than before, rough like sandpaper.

"No."

"You really think an NHL wants a player that fights against his own teammates?"

"N-no."

"Your grades are slipping, you're fighting with Matthew, you really think you'll be first pick come draft time if you keep this up?"